


you can't change the world, if all you have is a hammer

by scarfy36



Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Panic Attacks, Past Abuse, References to s01e06, hammers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-24
Updated: 2019-03-24
Packaged: 2019-11-26 23:36:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18186971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scarfy36/pseuds/scarfy36
Summary: Michael helps Noah and Isobel with some handiwork, because apparently it takes a mechanic to assemble Ikea furniture. He’s doing fine with the Allen key and his drill set, so he’s taken by surprise when Noah returns from the garage with a hammer.





	you can't change the world, if all you have is a hammer

**Author's Note:**

> title from '1933' by Frank Turner

Michael is helping Noah and Isobel with some handiwork, because apparently it takes a mechanic to assemble ikea furniture. 

He’s doing fine with the Allen key and his drill set, so he’s taken by surprise when Noah returns from the garage with a hammer. He flinches, hard, when Noah offers it to him. When he doesn’t take it, Noah shrugs and starts nailing the backing on the shelf. Michael sees the swinging arc of Noah’s arm out of the corner of his eye and that would be enough to bring him to the edge, but it’s the sound it makes hitting the nail that tips him into pure panic. 

He has just enough sense to rush to the bathroom - the only room in the house with a door that locks and a store of nail polish remover. He snibs the lock on the door and exhales deeply, his legs giving out as his muscles tremor. He braces his back against the door and curls in on himself. He knows he should be breathing deeply but his lungs won’t cooperate. He can’t get any air in. His ears are ringing but underneath it he can hear someone calling his name.

-

Noah is alone in the living room when Max returns from his beer run. 

“Where’s Michael?” he asks.

“Bathroom, I think,” Noah replies. “You might want to check on him, though. He looked like he was going to puke. I was going to see how he is when I finish up here.”

“I’ve got it, thanks,” Max says. A puke face could mean that he’d exerted himself with his powers, but Michael usually had the most control out of the three of them.

He calls Michael’s name and knocks on the door but receives no response. He tries the handle next and finds it locked, as he’d expected. When he presses his ear to the door he can hear ragged breaths, almost like sobs. 

“Michael,” he calls again. “It’s just me, are you alright?” He doesn’t hear any change on the other side of the door. “Can you unlock the door?”

“Alex,” he hears Michael whisper between gasping breaths.

“Michael, what happened? Are you okay? Is Alex okay?” 

“Got to stop … Manes … Alex,” Michael is whispering again and Max can’t make sense of the words. He knows that Michael and Alex were close, but he has no idea what has caused Michael to be calling Alex’s name in panic.

He calls out to Noah and asks him to call Alex, hoping he would have some idea what’s going on. Max stays at the door, repeating reassurances through the bathroom door until Alex arrives.

“I was at the Crashdown with Liz, what’s going on?” Alex asks, justifiably confused when he reaches Max. “Noah didn’t say much on the phone.”

“Michael’s in there,” he indicates to the bathroom door. “I think he’s having some kind of panic attack and he keeps saying your name.” He turns to the door and softens his voice. “Michael, Alex his here. Can you open the door now?” 

Max gestures for Alex to say something. “Guerin, you’re worrying Max. Can you let me in?”

The lock clicks and the door opens a fraction. Alex eases the door open, careful of Michael sitting on the floor in front of it. Alex crouches down to look at Michael and Max finally gets to see his brother. Michael is pale and his hair is sticking to his skin with sweat. His eyes are unfocussed, looking around the room wildly.

Alex reaches out to gently place his hand on Michael’s shoulder and Michael lets out a whine as he leans into the touch. Encouraged by the reaction, Alex gets closer, sitting on the floor beside Michael and wrapping his arm around the other man’s back. Michael shifts further into the embrace and starts muttering into Alex’s chest. 

“Y-your dad,” he says. “Had to- had to stop him.”

Max doesn’t know what Michael’s talking about but the look on Alex’s face says the other man does. Alex looks past Max into the mess of half-assembled furniture in the living room.

“Shit,” Alex whispers, letting out a long breath. He reaches to hold Michael’s hand - his broken hand - but Michael jerks it away, holding the hand to his chest like the injury is fresh. Max never asked how Michael really hurt his hand, too preoccupied with selling the lie to Isobel. From what he’s seeing now, Max gets the impression it was worse than a bar fight.

“What’s happening, Alex?”

“You were right, it’s a panic attack,” Alex says, his voice soft. “A bad one, triggered by…” he trails off, then says, more to himself than Max, “I had no idea he would be set off by…” He shakes his head as if to rid himself of a bad memory and Max knows better than to press for details right now. “I’m going to get him to the couch. Can you clear the tools from the room and get some water?”

“On it,” Max nods, glad to have something helpful to do. He leaves Michael with Alex and collects the tools from the room, returning them to the garage. He shifts some of the flatpack pieces to clear an easier path to the couch before fetching a glass of water from the kitchen, as well as a bottle of nail polish remover which he stuffs into his jacket pocket.

By the time he finishes his tasks Alex has Michael laying on the couch. Michael’s head is in Alex’s lap and Alex is gently stroking Michael’s curls. Michael’s eyes are closed and he looks a lot calmer than he did a few minutes ago. 

“So,” Max begins, sitting down in one of the room’s armchairs. “You want to tell me what happened?”

Alex hesitates, looking down at Michael with more affection than Max had anticipated. “He never told you how his hand got broken, did he?”

“No,” Max shakes his head. “He told us he got drunk and got into a fight, but I knew he was lying.” 

Michael shifts and he instantly has the full attention of both men in the room. When he stills and his breathing evens out again, Max continues. “What really happened, Alex?”

“It was my Dad,” Alex says, not looking up from Michael’s face. “He caught us together, in the toolshed behind my house. He- Michael tried to protect me, so my dad took a hammer and-” he cuts himself off with a choked sob, but Max has heard more than enough.

“He was building furniture with Noah.” Max exhales heavily. He knows Michael hides a lot of his trauma from him and Isobel, but he’s still disappointed when he finds out exactly what horrors he’s keeping to himself. 

“We haven’t talked about that day,” Alex admits. “I think of it every time I look at his hand, but I won’t bring it up until he does.”

“Do you- are you able to stay for a bit? I think he needs the rest. I’ll let Noah and Iz know to give you space for a bit.”

“I want to be here when he wakes up,” Alex nods. “Thanks.”

-

Michael’s head feels fuzzy when he wakes. He blinks his eyes open and takes in his surroundings: the comfortable sofa beneath him and the flat pack furniture in various states of assembly on the floor. His brain is slow to piece it together and he panics until he sees the wedding photos on the wall and remembers where he is. 

“It’s okay, you’re okay.”

The sound of a voice above him makes him realise that his head is in someone’s lap and he has no idea how he got there. He pushes himself upright, his head swimming when he moves too fast.

“Guerin?” This time he recognises the voice. Alex. “How are you feeling?”

“What- Alex?” He tries to think why Alex would be in Isobel’s living room but his brain won’t cooperate. 

“Here, take your time,” Alex’s voice is gentle and soothes his aching head. Michael takes the glass of water he’s offered and lets Alex’s hands support him as he sits up.

He takes a slow drink of water and feels his head start to clear. “Why are you here?” Michael doesn’t mean for it to come out so harsh, but Alex doesn’t seem hurt by the question.

“What’s the last thing you remember?” Alex counters, concern creasing his forehead.

“I was helping Noah build their new furniture. Well, I was building it while Noah pretended he knew what he was doing. Then he got a- a hammer,” he stutters over the last word as he remembers the overwhelming panic seeing it had caused. He remembers getting to the bathroom and trying his best not to relive that terrible day in his memories.

“You had a panic attack. Max called me, he said you were saying my name,” Alex explains. Cautiously, he adds, “You were reliving that day in the tool shed, weren’t you?”

“Yeah,” he sighs. He takes another drink from his glass to avoid looking at Alex. “I think it was just, uh, Noah took me by surprise. I’m not usually like that.” 

“Hey, no, it’s normal to have that sort of reaction to a trigger. You’ve been through a lot of trauma, Michael,” Alex grabs Michael’s good hand and gives it a comforting squeeze. Michael sees him hesitate before adding, “I want to help you. If you’ll let me, I want to be here for you.”

Michael takes a moment to answer, overwhelmed by the emotion radiating from Alex. “I’d like that.”


End file.
